Reserved For You
by Wollemia nobilis
Summary: Sherlock appears not insulted by being called a certain word. John is curious to find out why.


Note: I don't own any of the characters from the Sherlock BBC television series, nor any of the characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

* * *

 **Reserved For You**

At a crime scene earlier, a new forensics technician had to be reprimanded for threatening to beat up the consulting detective. Back at their apartment, hanging up his coat, Sherlock asks, "What did I do to deserve that gesture?"

"You mean, why did he show you 'the finger'?" John is scowling. Sherlock nods. "Well, you did insult him by how you phrased your doubts about his forensics skills." John is rolling his eyes. "Why can't you just keep your mouth shut when what you'll say is _really inappropriate_!" In his exasperation John is struggling to hold back swear words himself. He wishes his friend had more "social grace", knew when being brutally honest was not a wise approach.

Sherlock knows showing someone that finger that way means "fuck off", "go fuck yourself". He has no intention of using his finger on himself for that purpose. Good that the gesture was aimed at him, not John, because, frankly, if ever anyone's fingers are to go to that part of John's body, it should be his, and his only!

"He also called me wanker," Sherlock states, lifting his chin.

"A wanker is a person who masturbates. Most people find the term offensive. He was trying to insult you," John explains.

Sherlock does masturbate, without inserting one of his middle fingers into his anus. Not on a regular basis. Just occasionally over the past several months, after seeing John prepare tea, after watching him do the dishes, after watching telly together on the couch, after them chasing criminals together, after watching him at crime scenes, after seeing him sleep in his chair, after walks in Regent's Park, after sharing breakfast, lunch or dinner,... Sherlock very definitely finds John very attractive, both in mind and body.

"I'm given to understand that most people masturbate, also if they don't have a partner who they can have sex with. So that's not really an insult then, because most likely whoever is addressed that way does 'wank'," he argues.

John huffs, "Right, brilliant deduction that. Just because you have a point there, do not, I repeat _not_ , start to use this word in public!" He rubs his hand over his eyes. Sometimes he gets tired of having to explain acceptable behavior to Sherlock.

"Hm... you are definitely not 'most people', Sherlock, but since you appear not to be insulted in the least by being called a 'wanker', does that mean you masturbate?" John can't resist posing this question.

Sherlock swallows, wishes he'd kept his mouth shut instead of explaining why "wanker" obviously should not be used to insult someone. Due to his emotional and sexual attraction to John, just being around him can cause his member to become aroused. He is beginning to get hard, slips his hand into his trouser pocket to adjust himself discreetly in his pants. He had to switch from boxers to briefs to better hide the evidence of his as-yet-secret love. His favorite pair are the Dartmouth green colored ones, which he happens to wear now.

"I...," he blinks. He's starting to feel hot, exhales a long sigh. Finally he looks up at John who is patiently waiting for an answer. He hopes John will get off this topic hearing his quiet admission, "Yes, occasionally." He is out of luck, though, because John is curious now. He doesn't say anything right away, his eyes are darting in various directions, he's obviously thinking, calculating, evaluating. Sherlock closes his eyes, dreads what's probably coming next.

"I thought...," John has trouble finding the right words, clears his throat. "I've never seen you interested in anybody. I thought you were a celibate homosexual." He goes to sit in his armchair, the surprise of finding out that his friend/flatmate _may_ be fantasizing about doing something sexual with someone when he masturbates gives him butterflies and weakens his knees. He swallows, stares into the distance, reminiscing, then looks at Sherlock again.

"You said at Angelo's..."

"That I consider myself married to my Work," Sherlock finishes for him. How often he has wished that he had not said that, even though at the time it was true, still is. "That girlfriends are not really my area, that I don't have a boyfriend," Sherlock reminisces as well. He is glad that John appears to be heterosexual, at least this way he does not have to deal with male competition. He chased off John's girlfriends, honestly thinks he could not bear to see him with another man ever. He does not want to contemplate what he might be capable of doing.

By the time he noticed that he was sexually attracted to John and found himself falling in love with him, by the time he had acknowledged that to himself, he did not want to confront John's apparent heterosexuality. Not wanting to lose John's friendship, he chose to hide his feelings, and for the most part ignored his erections. If John up until just now had thought that he was "a celibate homosexual" he indeed succeeded in hiding his love, admiration, lust for and attraction to John Watson very well. So much for good acting and smart clothing choices.

Sherlock sits down in his own armchair, ponders his options. There aren't many. Not to lose John as his friend and flatmate is paramount. He can live with having erections, but not without John! His fingers first clutch the armrests of his chair, then start drumming on them. _John is a very understanding and compassionate human being, much more so than I..._ Unconsciously he starts biting his lip. He considers that it would be nice not to have to hide his feelings and erections anymore, to be able to love and touch John in all the ways that he wants to... His penis agrees with these thoughts. Of course.

John heaves a sigh. He is beginning to wonder why Sherlock exhibits clear signs of being nervous, looking like he is trying to hide something. There have been times when he wished that Sherlock had answered differently at Angelo's. Maybe then he wouldn't have bothered trying to find a girlfriend, because certainly shortly after he'd found himself attracted to and falling in love with this beautiful, at times infuriating man. "I'm really not looking for any...," he recalls Sherlock's words, which, of course, he will always respect. _Is there any chance that things could be different between us?_

Neither of them speaks for a couple of minutes while the uncomfortable silence stretches on. Both look quite serious. Sherlock blinks and swallows while John is trying to think of how to broach the subject, at the very least to gain clarity for his own peace of mind.

"So, erm...," he clears his throat, _Maybe Sherlock is interested in me but doesn't know how to ask_ , "is there anything you wish you could have done differently in regards to me?" Putting it this way will give Sherlock the opportunity to express himself if he chooses to, or give him an easy out.

"Your only going out with women and repeatedly insisting that you are 'not gay' makes you appear heterosexual. _Are_ you bisexual?" Sherlock has chosen this question carefully. Depending on John's answer he can choose to declare his feelings and interest, or remain quiet and keep the, albeit for him emotionally and sexually frustrating, status quo.

John raises his eyebrows as he sucks in a breath. "Bisexual, as in... am I also sexually attracted to men?"

Sherlock nods.

John rubs his hand over the hair on top of his head, then the back of his neck. He thinks of the fact that normally he prefers to be romantically involved with women, doesn't watch gay or even bisexual porn. But given a choice right now, who would he want to be with?

"I don't think I'm really bisexual," John says honestly. Sherlock's heart sinks. "But there is this one man whom I find immensely attractive," a wistful, sad smile appears on his face, "and am in love with... I thought he wanted to remain celibate, so I respected his wishes..." John nods at Sherlock.

Now Sherlock sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes search John's face. "You mean..."

"Yes. You."

"But... - If you'll have me, I don't want to be celibate anymore."

John swallows trying to envision the implications. Noticing that Sherlock is trying to get a look at his crotch, he puts the leg that he had across his knee down. He's not ashamed to show his own desire, finds it very satisfying to see Sherlock's eyes widen. There's an entire coffee table between them, and definitely too many clothes. The need to touch each other is skyrocketing by the tenths of a second.

"So, we're partners in a committed relationship then?" Sherlock manages to ask huskily as they both quickly rise to meet in front of the couch.

John is breathing quite heavily, "Yes, definitely!" as he wraps his arms around Sherlock, presses his body against him.

"When I fell in love with you, I decided that my fingers and body are reserved for you, John," Sherlock declares solemnly. "Yours only...," he breathes by John's ear.

Their first kiss is passionate and glorious... relieved he comes untouched in his Dartmouth green pants. ...


End file.
